


Pretty Visitors

by tEAcLouDs



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus drinks tea, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gellert is a sweetheart, M/M, Magical Castles, Wandless Magic, fictional ghost stories, not as fluffy as originally intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tEAcLouDs/pseuds/tEAcLouDs
Summary: Gellert does what he does best - namely telling not necessarily truthful stories, having no impulse control, and being dramatic. Albus is concerned. Featuring guided tours to Numengard castle, tax evasion and Auror cruelty.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Pretty Visitors

There were many theories regarding the fact that prof. Albus Dumbledore was juggling more than one job despite seemingly not needing it one bit. Some would say that he needed the ministry position for political gain, others would spread the rumour that it was giving him all the power he needed to manipulate the right people. Some kind souls would be outraged by such accusations and say that he did it out of the feeling of fulfilment, he enjoyed it, really. 

And they wouldn’t be wrong, of course. However, one of the main reasons that prof. Dumbledore was juggling jobs at a rate that would amaze a professional juggler was the fact that his husband, Gellert Grindelwald, took a huge loan from several wealthy Wizarding families to build their castle and by the end of his little disagreement with the Wizarding Community’s law enforcement he couldn’t pay it back. 

Many that read "Hogwarts: A History" (a chosen few as one can deduce) know that one of the protective charms placed on the Hogwarts castle is a Muggle repelling spell that shows a rather dreadful place, all in ruins. However, there are only a handful of people, you can probably count them on two hands, that know that the same enchantment lays on the Numenguard castle as well, with a small alteration. The thing is that Numenguard appears as a dreadful ruin as well as Hogwarts, all black and neglected. Only it appears so solely to wizards, which comes rather handy on Auror inspections to the castle. Gellert uses this, however, to help the effort to pay for the mess he got their family into.

Guided tours to the Numenguard castle for Muggle tourists are still held weekly to this day, despite the fact that the debts were paid ages ago. The reason for that is the same reason why Albus Dumbledore kept all his job positions - the Dumbledore-Grindelwald household was enjoying it way too much to forgo. The Muggles are convinced that the castle once belonged to an obscure branch of the Habsburg family and is inhibited by stories, probably ghosts, and a charming but cynical tour guide, that may turn out to be one of the aforementioned ghosts. Throughout the years Albus and Gellert have perfected the tour route so that it includes some rather convincing evidence of ghost activity to entertain themselves as much as their guests. 

They were a group of eight people this time, loaded with backpacks and cameras, looking curiously at the entrance hall and it’s huge fireplace. Gellert smiled looking at the cameras - he knew that none of the photos will make it out alive. Such small precautions provided the needed safety of not being discovered both by the Muggle Tax officials - after all, without pictures there’s no such thing as Numanguard, and by the Ministry of Magic - after all, this is just some silly Muggle story, look at the place it’s a prison, not a palace.

“Welcome to Numenguard castle!”  
There was no fire in the huge fireplace when everybody entered the hall, but at Gellert’s words a blue blaze rose up, flickered and died behind him, making his white hair look luminescent and his face hollow and dark as a skull.  
“Don’t worry, it does it sometimes,” said Gellert, a satisfied grin scratching his mouth, as the Muggles jumped in surprise. “A gas leak, probably, or if you believe in ghosts, it’s old Margarette Habsburg, an old hag and a recluse. She hated visitors, but it seems she took a liking to you lot.” the nervous laughs died as sparks from the fireplace hit the carpet and seemed to leave holes there. “Or not,” sighed Gellert dramatically.  
“If you would please follow me.” He gracefully jumped up the stairs. ”On your left you can see oil paintings dated to the early eighteen hundreds, by an unknown artist. On the third floor there’s a painting of old Margarette’s sister, Josephine, from the 12th century. Many historians believed the siblings died in infancy, but this castle is a solid proof of their prospering life, as you can see. We’ll get there as soon as we’ll conquer another staircase.” He called cheerfully to the sweaty tourists climbing behind him. 

The truth was that he made the paintings himself a few years ago. Several of them clearly depicted Albus and one of them was a rather nicely done portrait of aunt Bathilda. The merpeople in the middle painting in the hall had to be bribed to stay underwater and only jump when the Muggles passed them, for the needed spooky effect; hallucinations of moving merpeople in 19th century paintings had its charm.  
At the top of the staircase he stopped and turned back to the Muggles that were climbing up huffing. The light from the window illuminated him from behind, making his hair a golden halo. 

“Mister Waldman” choked one of the ascending, trying to catch his breath. “Do you, by any chance, have a lift?” the others that caught up looked at Gellert hopefully.  
“Not until we’ll get the permit from the Committee for the Preservation of Ancient Buildings to attach it outside. So, not in our lifetime.” beamed Gellert. "Everyone's here? Excellent! On we go!" called Gellert, marching on.

"On this floor there are several studies and a reception hall, where all the balls were supposed to be held. Since no record of such balls can be found, it is safe to assume that there were none. However, locals claiming to see flickering lights and gatherings of some rather strange folks in this castle around Yule go several centuries back, so maybe there are balls, just not for us, mortals." Gellert winked opening the door to their living room with a bow. "Here you can see the blood stain that couldn't be removed for three hundred years, and we just gave up on it, frankly. It's here to stay, so to say." Gellert stood above a red stain on the wooden floor, as a shiver ran through the gaping Muggles. It was three days old. They've spilled red wine there while dancing and decided to incorporate it into the act. Pity to waste such good wine. 

As the group passed by the windows, the curtains shifted as if by a sudden wind. The otherwise stiffening quietness of the room was pierced by a scream. One of the ladies almost stumbled on a chair that suddenly appeared behind her. "It seems that not all of the guests from last Yule left the building," said Gellert wistfully. "Legend has it that those are the spirits of people that got trapped here on the ungodly Yule celebrations and are trying to get out by moving the furniture they are trapped in, an inch at a time. Other stories say that those are evil spirits that aim to catch mortal souls who dare to sit on those chairs. Everything is true of course, so I wouldn't recommend touching anything," one of the teenagers was getting way too close to the cupboard with Albus' vinyl records. 

They were on the second floor right after the part of “ _the carpeted floor tile that made a laughing sound when someone stood on it_ ” and were faced with “ _the door slamming in their faces and blood starts dripping from the ceiling, but doesn’t stain_ ”, when Gellert was unpleasantly notified that Aurors were coming for an inspection, unfortunately, **right now**. There weren’t many things that he could do and he didn’t have much time. With a wave of a hand the Muggles suddenly had blank expressions, as a second Gellert appeared in front of them and cheerfully beckoned them “Follow me please! Watch your steps, the stairs are poorly lit.” The real Gellert watched the retreating backs with a frown for several moments, making sure that no Muggles will be seen roaming the halls. 

As the last of the backpacks disappeared down the staircase, Gellert turned around and pushed the nearest wall. It became a door that saw better days in other decades and probably belonged in a jail of the inquisition. Gellert pushed it open and went inside, just in time. Two pairs of footsteps could be heard making their way upstairs from the other side of the hall, talking loudly, though Gellert couldn’t make out the words behind the heavy door.

He stood by the barred window taking deep breaths to calm himself down, when the door opened with a bang and two Aurors entered the small room. They looked around sneering “No new furniture this time, Grindelwald?” said the shorter auror in the leather coat.  
“No. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the necessary funds this month.” answered Gellert leaning on the window frame.  
“Oh, you’ve been raising funds, Grindelwald?” said the taller auror, stepping further into the room.  
“Nothing that should concern you, I assure you.”  
“But it does.” the tall auror waved his wand and Gellert found himself on the floor. “He’s getting way too comfortable here, don’t you think so, Pitterson?”  
“I wholeheartedly agree.” Pitterson, too, was with his wand out.  
Gellert flew halfway across the room, getting hit by an invisible hand as he tried to get up.  
“You know how many aurors lost their lives because of you?” said the taller auror standing over Gellert with an unpleasant smile. “Lost count really,” Gellert spat back. Albus always said that his impulse control would get him into an early grave. It seemed that he was absolutely right. 

The situation wasn’t something new to Gellert. Every other month there would be a new pair of aurors that sought revenge for their fallen or injured friends; casualties in his failed attempt to draw attention to the ills of the current government policy regarding the Statute of Secrecy. Gellert knew that he mostly deserved their hatred. Getting the aurors into the crossfire of the Muggle armies was definitely a spectacular move that got attention from the government and changed a few regulations, but at what cost. Some of aurors were rather violent, but it didn’t justify it. Well it did to Gellert at the time, but he could see their reasoning for getting him flying several rounds across the room. There were numerous times when Albus’ presence saved him from having a black eye, others he would let himself have a few, probably well deserved, bruises, but the aurors would get tired of beating him after a while and leave, most of them didn’t want to stoop as low as criminals. 

_This time, however, it wouldn’t end with just a black eye, it seems_ , thought Gellert as he flew across the room for the fourth time, colliding with the wall and getting hit by a Crucio. His arm was already broken and it was getting hard to breath. It was time to stop this party. Gellert thanked Merlin for wandless silent spells as the aurors fell unconscious to the floor. He managed to get out of the door, when the world took a strange angle and he slid down the nearest wall.  
“Albus.. Call Albus.. The Floo..” he breathed out to a concerned face of a house elf before the tingling lights and the black abyss took him to their magical land. Someone was laughing in the background.

When he woke up, it took Gellert a few confused moments to identify that he was indeed in their bed and not lying on the laughing tile in the hallway. Albus was standing by the window in a bathing robe, hair pulled up in a bun, nursing what was probably green tea. Though, it could have been cocoa.  
“The Muggles?” asked Gellert, a little hoarsely, trying to sit up and getting tangled in the blanket.  
Albus turned around with a gasp, spilling some of the tea - yes it was tea by the look of it - on himself, but he was smiling as he was waving his wand to dry the robe.  
“They are fine. Went to the pub in the nearest village without any recollection of you sending them to a half an hour trip to the dungeons with no entertaining plan in mind.” Albus smiled at him warmly, moving to sit by him on the bed, tea cup levitating as he settled.  
“How are you feeling?” asked Albus, frowning slightly.  
“I’m fine, I think. A little s..” Albus conjured a bucket just in time.  
“Yes. Thought you might have a concussion.” he sighed. “You had a couple broken ribs, and some broken and cracked bones as well, dear, besides the huge bruises, of course. Gave the house elves a proper scare. I do hate the fact that those Aurors have a monthly pass here and can wreak havoc as they please.” He looked rather pensive. Gellert knew it was his plotting face, but now was not the time to dwell on it.  
“Speaking of which, what about the Aurors?” his head was pounding.  
“Opted to join our previous guests at the pub.”  
“How come?” Gellert rubbed his forehead, cradling the bucket. Albus grabbed a bottle from the nightstand and pushed it into Gellert’s hands.  
“Drink it please, dear. It’s for your head. As for your question - If it wouldn't've meant too much of a fuss for us, love, those marvellous people would have been thinking themselves Muggle tourists for the rest of their lives. But, alas, I cannot have such luxury. Therefore, I opted for a memory charm to convince them they’ve beaten you up and left, only to feel an inexplicable desire to mingle with Muggles. After all, it’s rather fitting - they have just beaten to a pulp a supposedly wizarding supremacist.”  
“Your compassion will never not astound me, Schatz.” said Gellert, pursing his lips, getting more comfortable on the cushions. He let the bucket to the floor, his headache was disappearing.  
“Wouldn’t call it compassion, dear.” said Albus sipping his tea, eyes on the cup. “They **will** turn up back to work drunk and file their reports in disappearing ink. I’m not sure how long they will hold their current positions, those poor souls, but I will drop a word in their favour.”  
Gellert just stared at his husband with a soft smile playing on his face, a bright contradiction to the few bruises that Albus couldn’t fix. “I love your compassion.” he said quietly.


End file.
